


All the Secrets We've Been Keeping

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared hasn't talked to, heard from, or seen Jensen for years. He doesn't really understand why, even if he might have an idea. What he does know is that when he spots Jensen out one night, he has to grab hold of this chance to talk to his friend again.</p>
<p>Warnings: Non-AU, angst, mentions of divorce and past relationships</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Secrets We've Been Keeping

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round Two of [J2 No-AU Challenge](http://j2noauchallenge.livejournal.com/). Title from [Jason Mraz's I'm Coming Over](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=id8AeN-C4j0), which I heard at his concert and immediately wanted a fic with Jared going after Jensen :D Huge thanks to [fiercelynormal](http://fiercelynormal.livejournal.com) for the beta months and months ago :D 
> 
>  
> 
> [Link to Art](http://acuarella-117.livejournal.com/16771.html) | A wonderful heartful hug and thank you to my artist, [acuarella_117](http://acuarella-117.livejournal.com). Thank you so much for picking my story and making so really fabulous art! I adore the pieces and have been excited each time you sent me drafts. Lovely work, my dear! Everyone should go look at her gorgeous banner, icons, and header!

  


 

It’s been eight years, four months, and a handful of days since Jared last saw Jensen in person. There have been hundreds of moments Jared has come across Jensen’s face in this time: a TV commercial, magazine article, old pictures on his mantle back in Texas. None of them ease the pain that the last time they saw each other, they were pretty damned hung over from a long-needed meet-up in L.A.

Hours at the bar eased the initial pleasantries - hey how you doin’; what’s new; how’s the wife; how’s the kid; what’d you do to your face, it looks like a rodent died on it - into a smooth, lazy buzz. The low drawls came out to prey upon shared memories of their time on the show, narration becoming smoother than ever before with ten times the snarky commentary than they had long ago. They laughed. They cried. They laughed ‘til they cried and leaned on one another with heaping gasps for air until Jensen stayed just where he was, leaned up against Jared’s side, all warm, happy, pliant, and half-drunk.

The morning didn’t feel so easy, but Jared didn’t comment on it. He figured he’d have time to think on it, to sort out his own feelings on the evening and tell it to Jensen straight. Clear up facts and misunderstandings so they could maintain the honesty of their friendship and laugh over it a few months down the line. Jared didn’t get that chance. 

 

 

The last time they talked on the phone was a little over six years back. Not much was said: Jensen didn’t have the time, Jared was also on the run yet trying to touch base. In the end, Jensen had said, “It’s a really bad time right now, Jay, I’m sorry, you know …”

Jared didn’t know, but he pretended he did. He faked the sincerity of understanding, joked that he had _things to see, people to do_ and was on his way as well. Jensen chuckled oddly, a soft, short little noise, and Jared tried to ignore how his stomach twisted with worry that something real bad was about to happen to their friendship.

He already had a feeling, and it said that something wasn’t _about to_ , but had already happened to screw up his relationship with the best person to come into Jared’s life. 

 

 

Jensen’s last email was four years ago. He apologized to Jared for all the deflection and the freeze out, but he went on to say that he and Danneel were getting a divorce. He said they were attempting to be as amicable as possible, yet it was difficult when they’d gone from being best friends to near strangers because, over time, work had pulled them too far apart until finally the whole marriage snapped.

He asked Jared for understanding, patience, support, even though they were still far from one another. Jared had replied that he was absolutely going to be the best rock Jensen could find in this time where Jensen likely felt like he was wrung out in the desert without a drop of water. 

Two weeks later, Jared emailed to check in. A week after that he called, left a rambling voicemail that showed how nervous he was about what to say to his best friend who was going through such a life-altering event. 

Three weeks later he called, texted, and emailed under a light veil of whiskey-drunkenness, until 2 a.m. hit and he told himself he gave up. 

Except maybe he didn’t.

Jared is standing in the middle of _Mon Cherie_ , one of the newest clubs to hit L.A. where the rich fabrics draping the wall are even more beautiful and high-class than the patrons. It’s not entirely his thing, but it’s the place to be seen and he needs to maintain appearances with a new movie coming out later this year.

Red, blue, and green strobe lights sweep the floor, catching Jared’s face every few seconds, but he can’t move or speak or even drink like those in his group. He’s staring across the room to the bar, where Jensen is leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand, a smooth button-down tucked into crisp dress slacks, and a bright smile for his conversational partner. 

Everything crashes upon Jared - ten years of Supernatural, the next four years of unparalleled friendship, the last four years of silence, and the cherry on top is that last night they saw each other. The morning after is a sour reminder of how easily they drifted apart, how Jensen had so quickly slipped through his hands. 

This moment right now is a swift slap to the face that Jared hasn’t really ever given up. Warmth flares in his belly, his heart pounds, and he feels twitchy, wanting to walk right up to Jensen and hug his best friend for all he’s worth. Problem is, his feet won’t move, his knees lock up, and his mouth goes dry of any possible opening line. 

Four years of silence continues on in Jared’s head even as the music throbs through the club and conversations carry on around him. 

The space between them here, with dozens of people standing in Jared’s way, only serves as an icy reminder of how close he and Jensen sat on that last night. Jensen had wormed his way close, Jared held steady and smooth with the heat of Jensen against him, and he answered Jensen’s awkward _Are you happy?_ with a charming _Hell, yeah, of course. Aren’t you?_

_That’s all I want, ya know?_ Jensen had replied.

Jared eyed Jensen then aimed a toothy grin at him. _To be happy?_

_For you to be happy. Like, that you’re good with life and doing what you want, you know?_

Jared had thought quickly about the fact that living day-to-day with Gen and Thomas was rough after spending a handful of years apart. He loved - loves - his son, but Gen changed over time; they both had, and the spark wasn’t there anymore. Every intimate look had been replaced with a tired, forced smile, as Jared resented her for taking his son down to Texas for all the years he remained in Vancouver, for not trying to make it work at that time with a nanny and the boy’s father always in reach. For all that family could help her out down south, he wanted to see them both each morning he woke up. He didn’t care if it was three-four-five in the morning; he wanted to leave the house with a glance at his sleeping wife and son, and head on to work with those images in mind. He wanted to come home to them, too.

He knew that he wasn’t happy except for the short moments he had Thomas in his arms, but he lied to Jensen right then and laughed the comment off. 

“Someone you know?” Roger, a new hanger-on, glances at the bar and eyes Jared. 

Jared lies to himself again, twice even, when he turns away from Jensen and pretends he didn’t see him. “Nah, just checking out the girls.”

 

 

Nearly two hours later, Jensen is heading for the door. Jared doesn’t even pause, lets will and courage carry him to follow. He slips between people, loses ground, and when he finally steps outside, he sees Jensen inside the car the valet just brought around. 

Trying to avoid a scene, Jared casually steps forward and leans to the side to watch Jensen put the car into gear and pull away. Jared hates the view of headlights fading the further the car gets, and he immediately pushes a large tip into the valet’s hands to get his car next. 

Once Jared’s got his SUV, he takes the same direction Jensen did, turns down the same street he saw Jensen take far ahead. He speeds between traffic to catch up to Jensen’s sedan then gets stuck at a red light while Jensen goes on through. 

He gets the green and races to beat out other cars and continue on the way he swears Jensen went. Nearly half an hour since he left the club, Jared is stuck at a light and watching Jensen pull his car into the entry drive of a Downtown high-rise, get out of the car, and hand the keys to valet. The building is just a few doors away from where Jared is kept by a red light, and Jared leans over the steering wheel to look up the height of the slick, silver building. Probably condos or apartment rentals; either way, it’s where Jensen is staying and suddenly Jared realizes what he’s done. 

He’d watched Jensen for two hours in that club, yet still, he followed him out of the club, sped down L.A. streets to keep up with him, and he’s now pulling into the arching driveway. He takes a deep breath when he gets out of the car, toys with his keys, and finally smiles at the valet. 

“Hey, I was just following my friend,” Jared starts easily, motioning towards the glass doors at the entrance Jensen has already gone through. “I think he’s in a rush to hit the john, but he didn’t tell me what room he’s in.”

“I’m sorry?” the young man says, leading Jared to get to the point.

“He didn’t give me his room number, but he just gave you his keys. Jensen Ackles?”

The valet - _Stefon_ his name tag reads - glances at the entrance then gives Jared a strange, playful smile with wide eyes. “Our residents are very keen on their privacy.”

Jared’s annoyed, but he drums up the right energy to keep the smile on his face; he’s been acting for more than two decades now, he can go on for another ten seconds. “Yeah, I know, it’s why he loves it here.” 

Stefon keeps a smart look on his face, non-verbally saying he won’t let the information pass. 

“Seriously,” Jared says with a laugh. “I just saw him come in, I was following right behind him, and now I just need to know what room he’s in.”

“I’m sorry, sir. You are welcome to call him yourself.”

Somehow that seems like one step too far, and Jared wonders suddenly what the hell he’s really doing right now. Shaking his head, unable to quit here in this driveway with a punk valet in his way, Jared charges on. “You know who I am. You know who he is. C’mon.”.

“Valet, sir?” Stefon asks, now standing next to Jared with his palm open for the keys. 

Jared takes a deep breath, tries to convince himself that this is okay, that Jensen will be happy to see him, and he’s making a big fuss of this for no good reason at all. Still, it takes a few moments to finally hand over his keys and an extra fifty, and he waits. 

Stefon nods, pockets the cash, and gets right into the car to start it up and drive away. 

“What? No, come on,” Jared whines as he watches the kid drive his car off. That fifty wasn’t meant for anything other than Jensen’s room number. “Well, shit.”

“Sir?” another man asks, a deeper, trained type of voice portraying loads more respect than Stefon.

Jared turns to the entrance and spots the doorman holding one of the glass door opens, white-gloved hand on the modern silver twist of a handle. “Do you know Jensen Ackles?” Jared asks as he approaches the door.

The man politely nods. “Yes, sir.”

“You know what room he’s in?”

Again he nods. “Yes, sir.”

Jared holds another fifty towards the doorman. “Are you able to tell me?”

The man smiles, slips the bill inside his jacket, and smiles with another short nod. “Have a good evening, sir.”

Jared slants a dirty look, but the doorman simply nods yet again, politely smiles, and ushers Jared into the lobby. 

At this point, he’s down two hundred between two valets and a doorman, and building up a case as a disturbed stalker because he tracked Jensen through the city and now the lobby of the place he’s staying, and is still dying to get another look at his old friend. 

It takes another hundred at the front desk, but he has Jensen’s room number and is finally in the elevator on his way to the right floor. 

His legs quickly take him to the doorway; his hands, however, are failing to move away from his pants legs. They’re twisting in the fabric, palms wet and wrists twisting as if they have a mind of their own and are barring him from just knocking.

A few quick breaths and he forces his hand up to knock before he can regret it. It’s a long wait for movement to be heard through the door, and he’s tempted to turn tail and run. He can chalk this up to a stupid night out drinking, even when he knows he didn’t have too much at the club. Nevertheless, Jared’s mind has often flown away on him; he can come up with some theories for why he did this, or convince himself he hadn’t at all. Then the door opens to Jensen in the same outfit from the club, tails of his shirt untucked and wrinkled. 

Jensen has always been handsome, beautiful, however one wants to package it. A man doesn’t survive as long as Jensen has in this business without good looks, but there is something more natural, comfortable even, as Jensen freezes in the doorway, a good deal older than the last time Jared stood before him. Jensen’s face is thinner, jawline striking with a thin layer of scruff. Hair longer and styled to the side. Those shoulders, though, are just as strong and confident as ever. 

_Amazing_ is the only word that consumes Jared’s mind before Jensen clears his throat with a shaky, “Jared, hey.”

“Hi, Jensen,” Jared rattles out quickly then takes a deep breath. “Hey,” he adds stupidly because his brain cannot wrap itself around the slow roll of words from Jensen’s mouth, as if he’d forgotten just what Jensen’s voice had sounded like. After all the years they played brothers, Jared had somehow memorized the rough edge to Dean’s words; he’d lost that memory of how soft and easy Jensen really can be.

Those green eyes are bright and wide as Jensen keeps staring at Jared, and Jared can see how he takes a hard swallow, throat working through it. “Hey,” Jensen says quietly.

“Hi,” Jared returns plainly then tries on a smile. There’s a small burst of excitement when Jensen smiles back, carefully but he’s smiling nonetheless. 

“What are you-”

“So, I was-”

Jensen chuckles, this easy, soft sound that reminds Jared of long nights on set when Jared would crack jokes and Jensen was too tired to fully laugh with him. 

“So, you were?” Jensen asks, suddenly appearing confused and slightly concerned.

“I was at the club tonight, Cherie Amore.” It sound so ridiculous being said, and now Jared blushes. “And I saw you.”

“Mon Cherie?”

Jared laughs, jittery, with a shake of his head. “Yeah, there. And now I’m down three hundred dollars to see you, so …”

“I didn’t know I was worth that much,” Jensen jokes.

_You’re worth much more_ Jared thinks, but keeps that to himself, because his mind’s getting far too ahead of what he’s ready to share just yet.

“Can I come in?” Jared says instead. 

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Jensen insists. He opens the door wider and scrubs the back of his head as Jared enters, and that’s oddly comforting, to see such a familiar little tic. “It’s been a while. You look even huger than you did back then.”

“More huge?” Jared teases. 

“You always were a know-it-all.” Jensen motions them into the living room. 

Jared makes a quick glance around the place and recognizes it for the rental apartment it is. He wonders how long Jensen’s been in town, how long he plans to stay, and why he hasn’t taken root in L.A. like he had done for so many years while splitting time with Vancouver. With a flash of concern, Jared wonders if Jensen’s been living here since his marriage was uprooted. 

Jensen doesn’t seem obviously fazed by Jared’s long assessment of the room when takes a seat across from Jared, yet he rises only a second later. “You want a drink or something?”

Jared waves him off. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to …” and there he stops because he’s not sure what he wanted from this moment. 

Jensen remains standing and suddenly laughs, confusing Jared. “It wasn’t even this hard to talk when we first met.”

Smiling lightly, Jared relives that first meeting, those first pleased smiles. It’s likely a little off, but the memory has been shaped by all the years that followed and he thinks it was a perfect first handshake. “Why is it so hard now? Why’s it been so long since we talked?” Jared asks before he can stop himself.

Jensen moves to the side bar and pours himself a short glass of amber liquor. “It just happens.”

“It shouldn’t have. Not to us.”

After a long sip, Jensen stares at his glass before slowly bringing his eyes up to Jared. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other?”

“Yeah,” Jared says with a smooth nod. He sits forward in the arm chair, elbows on his knees and hands clutched together. “We met up at Garv’s then ordered Rounders at your place.”

“Of course you remember the pizza.” 

With a short chuckle, Jared shakes his head, then looks up to Jensen with a bit of nerves.

“You remember anything else?”

Jared holds his breath and watches Jensen watch him back. He remembers, alright, even when he’s tried to smooth it over. They were sitting awfully close on Jensen’s couch, closer than probably ever before, and Jared wound up tired and whispering comments right against Jensen’s hairline. He remembers the smell of Jensen’s skin, his hair gel, and his mellow cologne. For years, he’s regretted that night, yet buried the thought deep enough that he tried to find other reasons for Jensen to shut him out. 

“Fourteen years we’d known each other, and you came onto me drunk.”

Jared shuts his eyes; he remembers that differently. Jensen had mocked him for watching too many movies and thinking it was okay to do that, that they were both married, Jared had a son, there were a few dozen reasons Jared shouldn’t have tried. Waiting too long and being drunk were part of the problem, it seemed.

His stomach turns at the sound of Jensen setting his glass down on the bar, again at the swish of clothing when Jensen returns to the sitting area. “I’d take it back,” Jared pleads, wanting to feel whole again with his best friend at his side. 

Jensen makes a face and sits back in his chair. “It’s not just that. It was a lot of things. Neither of us were happy where we were and I had to figure that out.”

“Danneel?” Jared asks, figuring the divorce may be more Jensen’s fault than hers. 

Jensen takes a deep breath, like he’s gearing himself up. “It can screw a person up, loving two people at once.”

Jared suddenly feels like it was all really his own fault, yet he knows exactly how rough a life it is to have one thing and care for it while yearning for someone else entirely. Guilt overrides any possible elation that Jensen loved him the way Jared had wanted him to. Soon after that night, Jensen shifted back and it was obvious his marriage was cracking. 

“Another day or time,” Jensen offers with a shrug, “maybe a different kind of move, and things could have been drastically different.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?”

Another shrug, “We were drunk. And you backed off soon after that.”

Jared glances down to his hands, clutches his fingers tighter together. “I was following suit.”

Jensen gets up again, but Jared doesn’t bother watching. He keeps looking at his hands turning over each other as his mind flashes over hundreds of moments between them - the good and the great. He wonders at what point could things have changed. 

A drink appears in his sight and he looks up to Jensen trying to smile and waving the glass in front of him. 

“I just wanted you to stay happy,” Jared admits softly. “You were happy with her.”

“And you were happy with Gen and Tom.”

He hates to admit it, like his life was wrong for far too many years. “Not always.”

Jensen moves back to the bar and puts Jared’s drink on the counter, pours himself another, and leans against the side. “You always seemed ridiculously happy.”

It’s not malicious, the way Jensen says it, but it stings all the same. Jared joins Jensen at the bar, but he can’t look at him. Not even when he jokes, “I never thought I was that good an actor.”

“You’re not,” Jensen jokes back. “I knew better, but figured you needed to play happy family.”

Jared once enjoyed that part. There was great comfort and stability in having the family. Jared learned a long lesson that it wasn’t everything. “I needed my best friend, too. I needed you.”

Jensen looks up, eyes sad and hopeful at once. 

“I still do,” Jared mumbles. 

Twisting his mouth wryly, Jensen says, “Funny way of showing it.”

Jared’s not sure this is how to show it, it’s not how he imagined this night turning, yet he can’t stop himself from leaning forward. He mumbles, “I’m not drunk now,” and closes the space between them. He kisses Jensen softly, hesitant, and sets a hand to Jensen’s elbow. When Jensen tips his head up and increases the press of their lips together, Jared squeezes Jensen’s arm and sighs. 

Jensen brings his hand up to Jared’s face, thumbs at the corner of Jared’s mouth. Jared opens his lips around Jensen’s bottom lip and presses his tongue against it, relishing the slight tang of whiskey mixing with something stronger when Jensen slips his tongue along Jared’s. 

They kiss quiet and slow as they explore one another’s mouths and Jared feels his skin tingle at the realization that he’s finally kissing Jensen. A lot of memories and lost time, and Jared is finally _here_ with the best person he’s ever met.

Hands are planted on necks and hips, they’re barely shifting closer, and then Jensen hums into Jared’s mouth when Jared rubs his fingertips along the base of Jensen’s neck.

After two decades of knowing one another, this feels like the last piece to slot into place: to know how Jensen kisses, what he tastes like, what he likes. 

They pull back to catch their breaths, and Jared closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Jensen’s. “I’ve wanted to do that forever,” Jared mumbles.

“Forever’s a long time.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Jensen chuckles, warm and deep in his chest, and Jared sets his palm there to feel it in his skin. “I miss you,” Jared whispers, still unable to open his eyes, in case this whole thing withers away into a bad dream. “Like a limb. Like two legs were just gone.”

“How did you ever walk anywhere?”

Jared laughs and finally looks at Jensen, loving to see the return of that fond look Jensen has shot him a million times before. “It’s probably why it took me so long to get here.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, a smile sneaking out as he shoves Jared back. Jared grabs his wrist and yanks him back so they’re chest to chest and he can wrap his arms around Jensen’s back. 

“I don’t want to lose my friend again,” Jared says. He slips his hand beneath Jensen’s shirt, fingertips stroking his warm, smooth skin. “Don’t want to miss this - you - again.”

Jensen rests his hands around Jared’s biceps. “I’m not waiting another twenty years for you to do it right.”

Jared slips back, tucks his hands around Jensen’s belt and tugs as he walks them back to the hallway. “Can you wait twenty seconds?”

“Maybe,” Jensen replies then laughs when Jared bumps into the wall. “That’s the bathroom, by the way.”

Hearing Jensen’s laugh, being this close to having Jensen all to himself, empowers Jared. He tugs hard on Jensen’s belt to bring him flush against him. “You can give me the tour later.” He kisses Jensen hard, tongue plunging and taking over Jensen’s mouth until he feels Jensen lean heavily and grope Jared’s back. He pulls off with a loud smack and smirks at Jensen’s dazed look. “Now. Where’s the bedroom?”

Jensen shakes his head and nudges Jared to the left and further down the hallway. “You always had the worst sense of direction.”

Jared doesn’t note anything in the bedroom, he’s too focused on Jensen licking his lips and then falling onto the bed. He follows, resting beside him, and kissing deep yet tender as he strokes a palm over Jensen’s chest. He drags his hand lower and cups Jensen’s dick, half hard and hot through his pants. Jensen’s hips kick up to rub against Jared’s hand and he pulls Jared back down to kiss, tongue messy and quick.

He can’t wait now, after all the fuss of the evening added onto the last four years of no contact whatsoever. Jared swiftly undoes Jensen’s belt and pants, tugs them down with his boxers, and twists to the side to swallow him down. The taste and heat of Jensen’s cock floods Jared’s mouth and he’s on sensory overload, ears taken over with haziness. He has to stop where he is, face nearly buried in Jensen’s crotch, and take deep breaths through his nose. 

“Oh, god, Jared,” Jensen moans and lifts his hips. 

Jared widens his jaw and lets Jensen’s dick slip even further back in his mouth. He sucks at the heated skin on his way up and goes back down again. He continues on like this, stopping every few times to suck at the head of Jensen’s cock, drawing whimpers and moans from Jensen over and over. 

The wrecked sound of Jensen’s voice is getting to Jared. He feels a chill slink down his spine, followed by phantom shocks whenever Jensen strokes his back. 

Jensen calls for him again, loud and needy, and yanks at his shirt with one hand, his other running down Jared’s chest to grab Jared’s dick and knead it through his pants. 

“Jay, c’mere,” Jensen pants and yanks Jared upright. He kisses and sucks at Jared’s lips as he maneuvers Jared over him. He unbuckles Jared’s belt and gets his pants open, pulls Jared’s dick out, and strokes them both together. 

“Yeah, better idea,” Jared breathes out, feeling dizzy, like he’s out of his skin with want. He leans back and settles on his knees so he can watch Jensen fist their dicks in his hand, fingers curling around them with expert twists of his wrist. 

Jared rocks his hips, rolls his dick right into Jensen’s hand, and pushes his own hands under Jensen’s shirt to grab tight to his chest. 

With a bitten-off curse, Jensen’s body stutters and he grips their dicks tight as he keeps fucking into the channel of his hand and comes between them. 

Jared suddenly thinks Jensen is heartbreakingly gorgeous all blissed out, flushed, panting heavily and blinking up at the ceiling. Then Jared gets hot all over with the realization that for all the years of wanting and needing, he has Jensen right now, and that pushes him forward. He takes up Jensen’s hold around their cocks and fucks faster with short moans until he comes. 

Jared leans forward with his hands planted in the mattress, breathes heavily, and hangs his head down to see their dicks aligned on Jensen’s flat abdomen. He’s still slowly rocking his hips against Jensen, and he sees Jensen doing the same to ride out the high. 

Jensen’s hand rests on the middle of his shirt, twisting the fabric between his fingers, and then Jensen groans. “Ruined my shirt.”

“I’ll buy you another.”

“You think I’m that easy?”

Jared looks up to see Jensen’s wryly smiling at him. He takes a deep breath and smiles back. “After twenty years? No, not really.”

“Did it really cost you three hundred to get up here?”

Huffing, Jared shuffles to the side and stares at the white ceiling above. “Your valet and doorman are dicks. They don’t understand how bribes work.”

“Maybe you’ve lost your charm.” 

Jared lifts an eyebrow and runs his hand along the inside of Jensen’s thigh. He thinks about how quickly he turned Jensen over in bed, how he’s already dreaming up ways to make Jensen whimper and groan tomorrow. “You think?”

“I guess we’ll see in the morning.”

He thinks of another morning they shared, eight years ago when hangovers were a bitch and Jared didn’t have the nerve to talk. “You’re not kicking me out yet?”

“Not yet,” Jensen replies, eyes light and focused right on Jared. 

It’s hard to tamp down his grin, but he tries as he turns to his stomach and buries his face in a pillow. “Good, ‘cause I’m worn out,” he says, counting down the rush of emotions on either end of the spectrum tonight.

 

 

In the morning, Jared watches Jensen sleep for a bit, cataloging all the ways Jensen has changed over time and all the ways he hasn’t. He still has that slow, groggy way of waking, wiping a hand down his face when his eyes finally open. 

“Are you happy?” Jared asks suddenly, bound by the thoughts that have been swirling since he first woke up.

“I’m tired,” Jensen grumbles. “And hungry.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jensen blinks fully awake and adjusts the pillow beneath him. He clears his throat and gives Jared a serious look. “Almost.”

“Can I help with that?” Jared asks with a held breath.

Slowly, Jensen nods. “Yeah, I think you can.”

“Good,” Jared replies with a small smile. He slides closer with a hand on Jensen’s hip and the other resting above Jensen’s head. “I think you can help me, too.”


End file.
